After we thought we’d gone blind watching the corn fields pass by, we eventually happened upon a town. Civilization (at least the local definition thereof) came with a twist:

I can’t tell whether this sign describes the bar itself or just its female patrons.

What I can say is, there’s plenty of this:

and this:

inside.

Either way, very midwest farm girl: plenty of bush, no shavers.

Words of wisdom from another billboard:

From the clap to plain old jock itch, this is universally applicable advice. Use it wisely. Just not in public.

If he saw what his language has been reduced to:

Beware this bad motherfucker on the streets of Paris.

They must film some very, ah, manly movies in the midwest! How else could you explain why this guy:

was prolly delivering for this guy:

Maybe headed for that bukkake festival out west? Who knows?

(Yes, the spigot on the truck looks like a knob on a chain. The milk company symbol bears striking resemblance to a winking brown stink-star. Don’t ask. Don’t tell.)

History books tell us the Jim Crow era is long gone and people of all colors live in peace and harmony.

Our summer road trip says otherwise:

What the hell is this? We just a few months shy of voting in a black president and these backward-thinkers are still drawing race-based residential boundaries.

I can just hear the backyard conversations now: “Brownsburg has great music and food … but if I need open heart surgery or an office job I’m staying here in Whitestown.” Maybe even “Those folks in Whitestown, they run all the red lights cos they know a black man invented the stoplight. That’s all.”

Do idealistic yuppies from Whitestown go across the border to find a deal on real estate and get some “culture,” at least until their friends follow and push old Brownsburg residents to the suburbs? -and where do mixed-race couples live?

All we know for sure is, Brownsburg is where the white people used to live. Not unlike the Black Mall.

(Sorry the sign’s a little blurry. It was taken at highway speeds. Being a multicultural vehicle — me, the khaki-sporting white guy with the camera with his black driver — we figured our presence in this area might cause some trouble with the locals.)

B’n'S is back from hiatus! Once we were certain the election would be an affair among men, we decided to take a breather and have some summer fun. It’s not like there’s a war going on, right?

I took a road trip through flyover territory. (Gas is $4.50 a gallon but my white-collar ass can afford to juice up the Hummer for frivolous travel.) Man oh man are these people strange! You can tell from the billboards on the highway.

Exhibit 1, one of many religious-themed signs we saw in the Great American Heartland:

At least we think this was religious. I can’t tell if it proclaims the existence of that dude from the Bible, or if some other dude from the barrio is giving a shout-out to one of his homies (”hey ese, Jesús is réal, ya dig?”).

What am I thinking? Hispanics don’t live anywhere this ass-backwards. This sign is clearly a delclaration of faith.

When visiting a foreign land, it’s always good to partake in the local commerce:

Superstore, indeed! Buy it in bulk to save cash. Not like a ten-pack of butt plugs will ever go bad…

And as for this one:

Why does this advert target truckers? Do they have their own type of entertainment, Trucker Porn? and does it involve dumb lines about a a guy who “drives it home” or some lass who’s “getting a special delivery from a big rig?”